Songbird
by Unauthorizedx
Summary: It wasn't the fall that killed him, it was the sudden stop at the bottom – Ivan Braginski discovers a injured Gilbert Beilschmidt who...has wings? Wings AU. RusPrus, mild/implied smut


**Title: **Songbird

**Author: **Myself.

**Length:** 2,216

**Warnings: **Human names used, mild and implied sex.

**Rating: **Light R

**Characters: **Prussia, Russia

**Pairings: **Russia/Prussia

**Summary: **It wasn't the fall that killed him, it was the sudden stop at the bottom – Ivan Braginski discovers a injured Gilbert Beilschmidt who...has wings? Wings AU.

**Author's Note: **And another piece I posted on Tumblr, and this time of considerable length! Never thought I'd see the day.  
>Anyways, this is just a bit of a brainstorm for a plot I've wanted to write about for a long time. Wings are cool, bro.<br>Please be warned that this is probably littered with errors and changes styles frequently – I've been attempting to get back into writing after a bit of a rut!

Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Hetalia and the characters are not mine and I hold no rights to anything other than the writing.

xxxxx

****I.****

His eyes are listless, blank, locked on the horizon beyond the chilled glass of the window. He doesn't blink, nor move a muscle - just stares, silent and still as death itself.

It worries Ivan.

When he found the man, he had been lying on the ground among a pile of branches, broken from the tree above, left arm bent against the ground at a peculiar angle. How the man had fallen from the tree was immediately apparent - wings, large, white ones, ones that matched his pale complexion and hair. One seemed to be broken, too, and the man was huddled around it.

He had, of course, picked up the strange man and carried him to his house, worried that he would either starve or be found by a man less caring than he, one that would send a person of physiology away. He had a doctor - a very close, trusted friend - take a look and do his best to set the bones in the environment they were in.

(He later made him swear on pain of death not to utter a word to anyone)

Now the man - Gilbert, he had said - was awake and had been for some time. He refused to eat nor speak, though the latter more presumably because Ivan's language was unknown to him. He'd only given his name after Ivan gave his name and gestured to himself, and then prompted him to do the same.

Instead, he chose to stare out the window, wings folded neatly against his back. They prevented him from sitting in any backed chair properly as they were so long, so he was forced to sit sideways on a dinning room chair Ivan had brought up, elbow propped up against the back and chin in his hand. Ivan had tried feeding him, but he had completely ignored the bowl of stew he had set out, favouring still the view from the window.

Worrying.

Ivan feared that, without proper food, all his efforts were for not. Ivan wasn't a man to waste resources so, especially not on people; if you were to stay in his house, you were to accept what he gave you, no ifs, ands, or buts. Perhaps, though, this Gilbert knew the ways and wills of men and their fear of all things different, and was suspicious of the food.

Ivan understands this, then, and brings up bread and a slice of cheese - staple foods, really, and one would be a fool to poison a whole loaf of bread for one man. Gilbert stares when he sets it down on the little table in front of him and takes the now-cold stew away. It's the first time he's looked away from the window since he sat down - surely a good sign. He picks up the bread and sniffs at it, and after looking up at Ivan's beaming face, takes a cautious bite. Success! Ivan claps and giggles, overjoyed that he finally has the man eating. This, of course, makes Gilbert stare at him in horror and drop the bread.

They have a long way to go.

****II.****

Gilbert is…use to Ivan's antics now. 'Use' being used lightly, of course - there are still times when his childlike behaviour bewilders Gilbert, and sets him on edge. He still can't shake the fear that Ivan's keeping him for something, waiting patiently for…something. He wasn't entirely sure, but surely he wasn't just keeping him there for kicks.

It's hard, being cooped up for so long, unable to fly when he's spent his whole life doing so. He probably deserved it, however, flying out in the middle of a rainstorm. It's too difficult to see, then, and his feathers don't shed water as fast as some, leaving them heavy and hard to manoeuvre with, and making it all to easy for him to smash into a tree. It still leaves him jittery, being locked up, and he oft is found pacing the room Ivan has him in.

Ivan is alright, he supposes - so much better than he could be, though he can't tell, since they don't speak a similar language. For all he knew, Ivan could be insulting him, or he could be asking him horrible things, and all with that strange, permanent smile on his face. Gilbert didn't like that smile one bit - he'd seen enough to know when one was fake. Brought up in a group of people like his, constantly on the move, constantly afraid, fake smiles were everywhere.

They made his skin itch.

One day, he finally has enough of it. Enough of being trapped, enough of that fake smile, enough of the damn itchy tape on his skin. When Ivan arrives home from whatever work he goes to, he finds that Gilbert has upturned as many things as he can lift in the room and has torn off the medical tape on his wing. He's sitting on the floor in the corner when he walks in, clawing at the cast on his arm in vain. The moment he gets close, however, Gilbert tackles him, snarling, and pins him with considerable strength to the ground, good wing open and bearing down, almost threatening in its own respect.

"Stop smiling like that!" he growls, grabbing his cheeks with his hands and forcing his lips to pucker comically.

Ivan just stares at him, confused, and said something in that god-awful language of his, and Gilbert throws his hand up in frustration.

****III.****

They (impossibly) grow closer in the remaining months that Gilbert spends with Ivan, the latter trying to get the other to speak his language. It takes a long time, and Gilbert can barely form basic sentences and doesn't have any knowledge of the grammar, but it's farther than either of them expected. Ivan discovers that Gilbert doesn't eat meat - hence the reason why he didn't eat the stew when they first met - instead living similar to how a bird lives, though with more human things like bread and pastries (he gathers that they tend to steal things whenever possible). The latter makes Gilbert light up and speak animatedly about in his native tongue, and the look on his face when Ivan brings some home could make glaciers melt in joy.

Gilbert wanders freely about the house now, curtains always drawn shut over the windows so that no one may spot him. It calms his nerves a little, though it's still obvious that he yearns to be outside; he leaps on the ends of the sofa, wing fluttering, presumably, in hopes that he could stay in the air for a short while. He doesn't, of course, and it often ends with things broken or with him on his face or with a stubbed toe. Ivan laughs most of the time, but can't help feel sorry for him.

Ivan also discovers how very bird-like Gilbert is. He occasionally finds the albino singing softly in the morning in a language he's fairly certain isn't human, though he falls quiet whenever he notices Ivan looking - they were sad songs in the beginning, Ivan could tell, but they started becoming happier in their time together. He also seems to adore head scratches, something he found one day after ruffling his hair in amusement and watching him practically melt beneath his fingers. Ivan usually greets him in the afternoon with scratches, and Gilbert soon greets him in turn by nuzzling his face into his shoulder. Gilbert also seems to hop and screech when excited, and it's very, very comical and always makes Ivan laugh when he does so.

It's a strange day when Gilbert suddenly headbutts Ivan's shoulder - hard, too. "What are you doing?" he asks him, and Gilbert looks just as confused as he feels.

"Don't you greet your friends the same way?" he replies, head cocked to the side. Ivan feels honoured that Gilbert considers him a friend and the next time he comes home, he lowers his head and lets Gilbert headbutt him, and then laughs when he starts nuzzling his face. "You are so strange!" Ivan tells him, and Gilbert only mumbles in reply.

****IV.****

They grow steadily closer, what with the language barrier quickly being removed - it seems Gilbert has a knack for learning languages - even as Gilbert gets better and, inevitably, becomes closer to leaving. Gilbert's singing wakes Ivan every morning now, and he forgoes his alarm clock in favour of the singing. The headbutts steadily turn into nuzzles, and one day they stand together at the door, faces barely inches apart, and are suddenly unsure.

They are quiet for a space, their breath mingling from the closeness. "I'm going to have to go soon." Gilbert says softly, breaking the silence.

"I know," Ivan responds, and they close the distance, lips pressed together for the briefest of moments before they part, only to return again with increased vigour. Gilbert's hand finds its way into Ivan's hair, tangling itself in the locks and pulling him closer when Ivan's tongue slips into his mouth. One of them groans and then they're moving away from the front hall, managing to make it through to the sofa in the living room; it's an obvious improvement when Gilbert doesn't seem in pain when he's pinned on his back to the couch, injured wing trapped against the back cushions.

Ivan suddenly can't tastetouch__feel__enough of him, has to taste everywhere he can reach with his mouth and touch everywhere he can't, and Gilbert vocalizes his approval. It's a little difficult to deal with the sling on him, but they manage. Ivan runs his fingers along his chest, mesmerized by the curve of the muscles that work his wings, following it under Gilbert's arm. There's soft skin there, where the wing meets his back and before the feathers start - just a small patch, but when Ivan pets it with his fingers it makes Gilbert shudder and moan and arch against him.

When Ivan sinks into him, he's slightly amused by the way Gilbert's wing jerks, flaring, and then pulls close against him, tense. When it and the rest of him relaxes a little, he takes it as his cue to move, and the motion has his wings shuffling again, seemingly unsure of how to settle themselves. Gilbert quickly stops caring about his wings, caught up in the pleasure, and the good one falls open, accepting the leisurely fuck just like the rest of his body. His moans sound similar to his singing, Ivan notes, and his throat vibrates against his lips when he presses his mouth against it.

When it's over, the silence is…awkward. They don't say a word while Ivan brings Gilbert to his room and sets him on his bed, and they avoid looking at each other. Everything is so vastly different, though they both have been expecting this for a while. There's no way for them to remain together, and doing that just made their separation all that much more difficult. They fall asleep without saying anything, though Gilbert wakes him at sunrise with a song and everything returns to normal - the kiss Ivan receives before he leaves for work isn't, though, but he soon expects that it will be.

****V.****

Ivan has his doctor friend visit again, and Gilbert cheers and leaps about when he removes the cast and the tape that kept his wing pinned to his side. Ivan has to save many things from falling to the floor that day, as Gilbert stretches his wing and flutters about, knocking things over as he does so. Gilbert surprises him that night by pinning him to the bed; the way his wings move when he's rolling down onto him is even more fascinating than when he's on his back.

They manage to hang onto each other for a few more days, but they know their time together is over. Ivan watches Gilbert's practice flights in the evenings with his arms crossed, even if he's amazed with the way the other moves in the air. He's also envious, and even though he knows that Gilbert lives in constant fear that he'll be discovered, he can't help but long for the freedom that flight brings.

"You'll visit me, won't you?" Ivan asks on the night they've decided Gilbert will leave, hands toying with the ends of his scarf. Gilbert can only offer him a small smile.

"I don't know," he says, pulling Ivan into an embrace, burying his face into the larger man's shoulder, "I'm sorry, I love you." When Ivan tilts his chin up, his eyes are watery - Gilbert would never, ever cry openly, not even at times like these. Ivan, on the other hand, has tears streaking his cheeks and a quivering lip and oh, _oh, _he didn't want to be left alone again.

They don't really have much choice, though, and they share one last kiss before Gilbert spreads his wings and jumps into the breeze. Ivan watches him disappear into the night sky and then remains there for quite some time, staring at the emptiness of space, before he pulls himself away and slips back inside.

__fin.__

Xxxxx

__Did you enjoy this? Find it atrocious? See something that you would like clarified in this story? Please, by all means, feel free to review. Every review is loved!_ _


End file.
